


Die Like Star-Crossed Lovers

by L0S7MYW4Y



Series: You Don't Know A Thing About My Sins [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood As Lube, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Bottom Frank Iero, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Frank is 19, Gerard is 23, Hitchhiking, Knifeplay, M/M, Projekt Revolution Era Frank Iero, Revenge Era Gerard Way, Top Gerard Way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 05:58:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L0S7MYW4Y/pseuds/L0S7MYW4Y
Summary: Gerard is tired, it feels like he's been driving forever and he hasn't passed anything but cars and trees the entire time. His fingers are starting to twitch on the steering wheel and he’s starting to think he'll need to call out of work tomorrow if he wants to come home with a new polaroid to add to Mikey's growing collection.×|×|×Frank is tired, cars have been passing with their usual frequency throughout the day but nobody has stopped for him so he’s been forced to walk along the side of the highway all day with the wind blowing his hair in his face and his ankle holster rubbing a friction burn on his leg.Based on that one tumblr post about a serial killer that picks up hitchhikers picking up a serial killer that hitchhikes





	Die Like Star-Crossed Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> If this is about you or anyone you know personally I would advise clicking back unless you really wanna read smutty serial killer fanfic of yourself or your freinds, if thats the case then thats wonderful you do you and please never in any way let me know that you read the thing becuase that would probally drive me insane

Gerard is tired, it feels like he's been driving forever and he hasn't passed anything but cars and trees the entire time. His fingers are starting to twitch on the steering wheel and he’s starting to think he'll need to call out of work tomorrow if he wants to come home with a new polaroid to add to Mikey's growing collection. He might have to, it's been nearly a month now and he's had to come back every weekend empty handed for ages, he can't chalk this trip up to another bust. The sunset is just starting to reach its final stage and he's just lit a new cigarette and begun to reach for his phone when he sees him on the horizon.

Just at the bend in the road there's a guy sitting on the ground smoking next to a backpack. He clicks on his brights and the guy jumps to his feet and sticks out his thumb. _Jackpot_. As he begins to slow down he manages to get a better look at the guy and he feels that clenching in his gut that means he's found a new medium.

This guy is perfect, long hair blowing in his face and bundled up in a bulky camo jacket over a pair of black jeans ripped open around his knees. He looks exhausted, entirely hunched in on himself with the exception of his extended arm, but his posture changes quickly when he notices Gerard slowing down. His whole body seems to relax and his stance becomes slightly cocky, his head resting back on his shoulders and now Gerard can see his face, and _fuck_ this guy is better than he could have ever dreamed. The guy is stunningly pretty, with big childish eyes and his mouth the most wonderful shade of pink. He looks young too, maybe younger than Mikey, a teenage runaway probably but that doesn't matter much to Gerard. He’s perfect.

Gerard slows to a stop just before the guy, opens his door, and leans up into the gap.

****

**×|×|×**

Frank is tired, cars have been passing with their usual frequency throughout the day but nobody has stopped for him so he’s been forced to walk along the side of the highway all day with the wind blowing his hair in his face and his ankle holster rubbing a friction burn on his leg. The sun started going down a little bit ago, just now falling beneath the treeline and casting everything in sharp shadow. It was unlikely that anyone would pick him up now, not with night falling and giving everything a sinister edge.

With a long suffering sigh Frank stops, shrugs his backpack off to fall onto the damp grass, and begins rifling through the front pocket for his final pack of cigarettes and bic. He drops to a sitting position beside his backpack with an audible thump and goes through the motions of starting a new pack, tapping it against his palm for nearly a solid minute before he decides they're probably packed well enough and then peeling the plastic away and removing the foil from the inside. He flips a cigarette over with a grin remembering James, the guy he rode with a few weeks ago who prattled on for ages about smoker superstitions and was kind enough to share his weed, his grin became a chuckle as he pulled out a different cig and lit it. James had screamed so beautifully when Frank tore out a chunk of his shoulder with his teeth.

There are headlights in the distance now, nearly blinding in the sudden darkness that has fallen, and Frank hops to his feet and sticks his thumb out for what he swears to himself will be the last time before he goes and finds himself a place to set up camp for the night. To his amazement the headlights slow as they approach him, he can see the car now and it's one of those old hippy vans painted a pale blue that looks strangely grey in the insubstantial glow of the rising moon, either Frank is about to get in the car with an old lady or another weird stoner. He prays for the stoner, old ladys are no fun to kill and often he simply takes the ride however far it will get him and allows them to be on their way without ever knowing who they had in their car.

The van pulls to the side of the road and stops just before where Frank’s standing, then the drivers side door opens and suddenly there's a guy leaning up into the gap between the opened door and the front of the car, and _fuck_ Frank can feel himself nearly swoon. This guy is perfect, stringy black hair falling to his shoulders and so fucking pretty it hurts, nothing like what Frank was expecting when he first saw the vehicle. No this guy is definitely not some weird stoner, not with his baggy ripped up Misfits t-shirt and too large grey hoodie both covered in coffee stains and what looks to be red and white paint and suddenly Frank feels stupid for praying for a stoner when he could have been praying for this guy all along. Fuck Frank can’t wait to see the look on his face when he starts to rip him apart.

“You need a ride man?” The guy calls cheerily, taking a drag from his own cigarette and shaking Frank out of his train of thought. “I’m heading east up through Maine.” He raises an eyebrow quizzically at Frank and puffs on his cigarette some more.

“I… Uh, yhea east works,” Frank responds after another moment of _holy fuck_ and grabs his backpack from the ground beside him, slinging it over his shoulder as he approaches the passenger side door, “Thanks dude people’ve been driving past me all day.”

Frank schools his expression away from the dark awestruck lust he’s sure must have seeped through and into (mostly genuine) grateful incredulity as he pulls the door open and settles his backpack into the footwell while the guy settles back into his seat, still puffing cheerily on what looks to be the filter of his cigarette. As Frank settles himself into the passenger seat the guy pulls another cigarette from the nearly shredded soft pack sitting on the dash and uses the cherry from the first one to light it before throwing the filter out the window.

“S’no problem man,” He says around a mouthful of smoke leaning in towards Frank with his hand outstretched, “I’m Gerard by the way.” Blowing the smoke in Frank's face as he speaks.

Frank coughs and nearly drops his own cigarette before waving a hand in front of his face, quietly noting the sting of menthol in the smell of it, Gerard blushes and backs away before Frank can actually accept his offer of a handshake.

“Sorry.” He mutters quietly and Frank snorts

“It’s cool man we’ve all done it, and I’m Frank. It’s nice to meet you Gerard.” Frank leans forward and blows a little smoke in Gerard's face, just to prove his point of course definitely not to see the face that Gerard would make in the same situation, but Gerard just laughs and turns his attention to the road as he pulls away from the shoulder. Frank doesn’t let that disappoint him, he’ll get to see what Gerard looks like during much more vicious torment later, it’s just a matter of time after all.

Its quiet for a little while after that and Frank can feel the gears in his head grinding away, conjuring images of all the beautiful pain that he can inflict on this beautiful man later, which would be totally fine if it weren’t for the fact that Gerard is practically vibrating nerves at him from the other side off the van. So he makes the valiant decision to pick the conversation back up.

“So, the Misfits?” Frank says, trailing off and thinking of back home in New Jersey, pointedly ignoring the pang of homesickness and pressing on for Gerard’s sake. Can’t have his newest toy getting skittish and throwing him out before he actually gets a chance to play with him.

Gerard smiles brightly throwing a glance in Frank’s direction before dutifully returning his eyes to the road. “The Misfits are great,” He enthuses smile growing impossibly wider as he begins to ramble, “I mean, I kinda have to say that I guess, hometown pride and all but honestly i’d probably have my head up their ass anyways.” He glances at Frank again, blush rising on his cheeks. “I haven’t found anything better yet. Green Day comes fairly close though.”

“I’m from Jersey too so I get what you mean, and yhea, Green Day fucking rocks.” Gerard’s blush grows even more and he squirms in his seat a little, throwing another bright-eyed glance in Frank's direction. God that face, Frank isn’t sure if he wants to fuck it up beyond repair or just leave it be so that he can see the expressions Gerard makes unobstructed by any bruising and blood.

“There’s a box of tapes behind your seat if you wanna put them on?” Gerard says, voice lifting at the end and turning the statement into a question, “Unfortunately I don’t actually have any Misfits albums, my little brother stole them and I haven’t had a chance to steal them back yet.”

Gerard’s face falls a little bit at the mention of his brother, turning from nerd joy to something quizzically longing and dark, but the blinding smile returns when Frank turns to reach around the seat and retrive the box of tapes, eager to hear music he actually likes. Too many people he’s ridden with lately have had their radio turned to some bullshit top 40 station and Frank’s walkman gave out somewhere around the border between Connecticut and Massachusetts.

It only takes Frank a couple minutes to get the box on his lap and find Dookie, ejecting the Bowie tape Gerard had apparently been listening to earlier and sliding it in with a pleased little noise that he hoped the other man hadn’t heard. Somehow in that time Gerard who had been talking all the while had managed to change the subject three times leaving Frank a little confused when he was suddenly asked “What do you think Frankie?”

Frank blinked, “About what?” he asked, a little shaken by the familiarity of the nickname and the fact that in his rush to listen to some good music he had lost control of the conversation.

“Han and Luke were totally in love right?” Gerard said as the first notes of the album rang softly from the stereo, smile not dropping for a second even though Frank had just made it painfully obvious he hadn’t been listening. “I mean sure Luke’s a jedi and not supposed to fall in love with anyone but there was definitely something there and they squashed it and stuck Han with Leia for the sake of heteronormativity.”

“I mean I guess dude.” Frank said, a little incredulously. Gerard’s face did fall then, just a little, and Frank backpedaled quickly, not wanting to be thrown out of the car if this tirade was Gerard’s way of casually informing Frank he was gay in order to determine if that would be an issue or not. “To be honest i’ve only really seen the first one and I was really fucking stoned.”

There was a sharp bark of laughter and then Gerard continued talking, continued calling him Frankie too but whatever. Frank let out a tiny huff of air in relief, he would probably be able to make it to the proper intended end of this ride pretty easy if that was anything to go by, and pulled out another cigarette. He flicked his lighter, and then he flicked it again, and again and again, before groaning and pulling the smoke out of his mouth to tuck behind his ear only to have something small and bronze land in his lap a second later. It was a zippo, old and dented and engraved with what looked to be a melting rose, it was fucking sick. He placed his cigarette back between his lips and lit up. When he looked over at Gerard the blush was back and he was squirming again. Just a little.

“Thanks” Frank said quietly while leaning up and over to put the lighter with Gerard’s trashed pack on the dashboard before settling back into his seat and closing his eyes, letting the sound of Green Day wash over him as he took another drag from his cigarette.

****

**×|×|×**

Gerard was ecstatic. This guy, his Frankie, god he was perfect. He was just letting him talk, not really chiming in that much but nodding as if he was actually interested in Gerard’s theories about what monster all the big name slasher’s would be best as if you were to turn those movies into creature features, and he hadn’t even blinked an eye when Gerard had been talking about Star Wars and heteronormativity and how Han and Luke really should have been together. Sure he’d only just barely actually seen A New Hope but that was okay, Gerard could definitely handle explaining Star Wars. 

At some point in the conversation Gerard noticed that his Frankie had started to call him Gee in response to Gerard’s own use of a nickname and he could feel himself start to glow. He was the perfect choice for his next work he knew it, the fallen angel. Sure Mikey had just done that one but it hadn’t been quite right and anyway Mikey was so weird about his works, hated it when Gerard called them that too, said he’d rather Gerard “called them what they were and stopped trying to turn them into something they weren’t” but that was okay, Mikey was younger and still mostly a kid and Gerard had plenty of time to teach him.

After a little while Gerard noticed that his Frankie’s eyes were staying closed for longer and longer stretches of time whenever he would lay his perfect head back against the headrest, sinking lower and lower in his seat as he did so. Poor thing, he must have been walking all day seeing as apparently nobody had been able to find it in their heart to stop for him, that was okay though because if someone had stopped for him then Gerard would have been forced to make due with a much less perfect medium for his next work.

Throwing a glance in his Frankie's direction Gerard noticed that he now had his head pressed against the window, his eyes closed in what looked like a finite fashion and the rise and fall of his chest now deep and slow, his cigarette a forgotten stick of ash in his hand. Gerard could see the curl of a scorpion tail now peaking out of the drawn up collar of his jacket with the new position and the carefully guarded incredulous expression that had clung to his face in consciousness was now gone, replaced by something open and innocent. _Perfect, perfect, perfect,_ the chorus in his head chimed as he returned his eyes to the road once more and began to search surreptitiously for a disused backroad to pull off onto.

It doesn't take Gerard long to find a turnoff, a black tunnel of trees in the darkness surrounding them, and he tries his best not to jostle his Frankie awake as he turns into the woods. He drives for as long as he can bear the ever growing anticipation before pulling to the side and cutting the engine, his Frankie shifts slightly before setting back down again with a gentle sigh. Gerard smiles fondly to himself as he reaches for the handcuffs tucked carefully beneath his seat. He leans over carefully, allowing his eyes to freely roam the form of the man beside him for the first time since he got in the car, gently pushing up the sleeve covering his left arm and closing the handcuff around his wrist with a quiet click and…

Suddenly there's white hot pain crashing through his jaw and he would reach up to touch it, to guard himself from another strike, but there's the sharp sting of a serrated knife pressed roughly to his throat and Gerard isn't quite sure he's even breathing anymore. 

His Frankie's looming over him now with a sneer that looks almost giddy, something dark and familiar lurking in the depths of his eyes. That's the same look Mikey had that afternoon in the garage with the cat, the same one they both came home sporting at least once a month, and _oh fuck_ of course. Gerard mentally kicked himself for not seeing it as soon as his Frankie had gotten in the car. 

“So this is your game then? You pick guys up off the side of the road and take them somewhere you can have your dirty perverted way with them?” His Frankie was practically spitting the words in his face, gleeful and sadistic, Gerard wanted to protest but his Frankie pressed the knife harder against his throat “I oughta warn you _Gee_ , the last fucker that raped me ended up with his guts tumbling down a playground slide in Belleville.”

Gerard let out an awed gasp, he remembered that, he had been 19 at the time. Mikey had been 16 and he wouldn't shut up about it for weeks after it happened, said the police thought it had the makings of a serial killer but they'd never found another body. His Frankie was even more perfect than Gerard had thought.

“I-I lived three blocks away from that park, that was… that was beautiful. You did that?” Gerard managed to force out. 

His Frankie pulled back, looking a little affronted. “Beautiful?” he huffed out a sharp bark of a laugh, “You thought that was beautiful?”

Gerard nodded as earnestly as he could but was only rewarded with the feeling of blood beginning to trickle down his throat from the press of his Frankie's knife. Or… maybe not his Frankie, maybe just Frank, Gerard didn't think that Frank was his anymore. He wasn't sure he could make him his anymore, not now that he knew. 

Frank laughed again, darker this time, and leaned back a little further with a wry smirk. “You think corpses are beautiful, huh? Think you'd like to become one?” He laughed again and began to shuck his jacket off, switching the knife from one hand to the other expertly as he did so.

Gerard could see the rest of the scorpion now, as well as a couple dozen other tattoos curling out from beneath the blood stained white t-shirt that he now understood the jacket had been hiding. He wanted to focus on the artwork adorning Frank's skin, he'd always loved tattoos even if he could never get one himself, but his eyes kept getting drawn back to the varying shades of red and brown staining the white shirt like a painting. Maybe… maybe he could make Frank his in another way.

“And you,” He said cheerily in response to Frank's question, “How would you like to become one?”

Frank raised an eyebrow dubiously, “Big words for a pervert with a knife to his throat.” He intoned mockingly, leaning forwards again, getting up in Gerard’s space. “What do you think you can do?” He was even closer now. Perfect. 

Gerard inched his hand back underneath his seat slowly, not breaking eye contact with Frank, and reaching for the obsidian knife that Mikey had given him for his birthday last year. As he got a grasp on the handle he saw Frank open his mouth to speak again but this time he didn't get the chance because now Gerard was the one lunging forward, pinning him against the car door and knocking his knife into the footwell. 

****

**×|×|×**

Fuck. Wasn't that just fucking perfect, Gerard the apparent pervert had a knife too, and now he had Frank disarmed, pinned, and half handcuffed. Fucking Wonderful. 

“I didn't bring you here to rape you Frankie,” He heard Gerard say cheerily as he wiped at the trickle of blood on his throat, “I brought you here because I thought that you'd be the perfect medium for my next work,” He paused for a moment to lick the blood off his fingers, “But now I'm thinking you might be perfect for something else. How do you feel about playing a little game?”

“What kind of game?” Frank spit out angrily, trying to inject as much venom as possible into his voice, but all that did was make Gerard smile that bright manic grin again.

Gerard replaced the knife against Frank's throat with his hand, tight and restricting his airway, thumb lightly stroking the scorpion tattoo. Then slowly he brought the knife up to Frank's face, tracing lightly along the curve of his jaw, and the smile somehow grew brighter and darker at the same time. Frank recognized the glint in his eyes now, the one that meant someone had stared death in the face and liked it, and fuck, this is what he fucking gets for getting so caught up in how perfect Gerard looked that he had forgotten to look deeper into who he was as a person.

“I think we should play hide and seek,” Gerard said, loosening his grip on Frank's throat for just a moment before doubling down and cutting off Frank's airway entirely, “You can be It if you'd like Frankie.”

Frank tried to answer but all he could manage was a weak choking sound and Gerard let up on his grip just enough for Frank to breathe. He gulped down air for a moment before responding.

“And what does the winner get?”

“The loser.” Gerard replied simply, his eyes going bright and wild.

“Deal.” Frank spit out roughly, bringing up his hand to smack away the knife still teasing along his jaw. He grabbed Gerard's wrist and squeezed roughly enough to break his grip and brought it down between them. “How long do you want me to count?”

“Sing Jesus of Suburbia, then come find me.” Then Gerard was wrenching his hand away and climbing out of the van. He turned to face Frank still sporting that cruelly bright smile, pulling the keys from the ignition and flashing his knife as he did so, and then he slammed the door and disappeared into the wall of darkness surrounding them.

Frank did not sing Jesus of Suburbia, he knew how long the song was so instead he stared at his watch and counted down the seconds, he didn't feel like indulging Gerard by following his directions exactly but he figured that there was nothing wrong with giving him the headstart he had requested. Gerard had put himself at a disadvantage by allowing Frank to be It, and that made him feel like being a little magnanimous. Being the pursuer was always easier than being the pursued, hiding places aren't forever after all, you have to come out sometime.

Eventually the final few seconds ticked down and Frank cracked the door as quietly as he could, pushed it open slowly and took a moment to get the lay of the land. The trees surrounding them were old and nearly bare, standing tall and ragged against the pale light of the moon. Holding his breath for a moment Frank listened for the sounds of the highway but found himself hearing nothing but the near silence of animal chatter and wind through the trees. 

Clearly Gerard had taken them fairly deep into the woods, not that that posed much of a problem for Frank apart from the hike he expected he would have once this game was over. Slowly so as not to make any noise with his footsteps over the narrow gravel road Frank rounded the car to set off in the direction Gerard had left in.

Frank made it barely three steps beyond the treeline before he felt warm breath on the back of his neck. 

“I was really hoping you would sing.” 

Then, before Frank even had the chance to turn around, he was on the ground. 

“You cheating motherfucker,” Frank said as Gerard flipped him over, “How the fu-”

His words were cut off abruptly by Gerard's hand over his mouth and now Frank could once again see that manic grin before it turned into a mocking pout.

“Language Frankie,” Gerard intoned softly, removing his hand and reaching for Frank's handcuffed wrist with a smirk, “Can't have you talking dirty before the fun begins now can we?” 

Still in a state of shock Frank doesn't notice that Gerard has looped the other handcuff around his free wrist until he hears the click.

“You fucking pervert,” Frank spits, though most of the venom is gone now, replaced with something frustrated and resigned, “So this is how it ends, violent delights and all that?”

“That may be true but who said this was an end Frankie? Did I ever say the loser had to die?” Gerard's tone is strange, dark in a different way, and Frank doesn't understand until Gerard readjusts himself so that he's seated across Frank's crotch and _Oh_.

Gerard is hard, and with the other man leering down at him like that Frank thinks he might be starting down that road himself.  
“You fucking pervert.” Frank says, his words slower this time, remembering that first moment when he saw Gerard leaning up out of his van to offer a ride. He really is beautiful, maybe even more so now with that manic grin and those heavy eyes.

“Maybe,” Gerard says, smile growing brighter and wilder, as he slowly grinds down on the now growing bulge in Frank's pants, “But if i'm a pervert then you're a whore. I mean, look at you, handcuffed under a killer and getting hard.”

Frank moans before he can stop himself, biting down on his tongue at the last second in an attempt to stifle it but the taste of blood in his mouth only spurs him on and he bucks his hips involuntarily, causing Gerard to chuckle darkly. He can feel Gerard grinding against him torturously slowly and he whines, ashamed to have been bested so easily by the man he’d been itching to kill all night.

Gerard grinds down just a little harder, and _Oh god_ maybe Gerard has the right idea here because fuck this is so much better. Frank bucks his hips again moaning and then suddenly Gerard's hand is around his neck, cutting off his air supply for the second time that night, but this time it's perfect and Frank whines involuntarily grinding insistently against Gerard.

“Now now Frankie don't be greedy,” Gerard says, choking Frank just a little bit harder, “Greedy whores get punished. And we wouldn't want that now would we?”

And then Gerard is tracing Frank's jawline with the tip of his knife again, pressing in a little near his chin and drawing blood, and Frank can't help the strangled noise that escapes him. Frank doesn't know when Gerard got his knife out again, hell he doesn't even know where his own knife went in all the commotion, but he can't bring himself to care as he continues to grind desperately against Gerard.

Then, just as suddenly as before, Gerard's hand is gone from his throat and Frank gasps only to be met with a sharp slap to the face followed by Gerard licking away the drop of blood trickling down his chin.

“But maybe you do want that, huh Frankie? Grinding up against me like a bitch in heat, and for what? A little papercut and my hand around your throat?” Gerard laughs darkly, “All that noise about rape when you want this more than I do. You just wanted to force me to break you didn't you?”

Frank starts to shake his head no but Gerard slaps him again, harder this time, and presses the knife against his throat once more.

“Don't lie to me Frankie,” Gerard says, before licking once again at the still bleeding cut on Frank's jaw and moaning lowly, “We both know the truth.”

“Yes,” Frank gasps, feeling a teardrop trail down his cheek.

“Yes what Frankie?” Gerard teases, lifting his hips away, leaving Frank to hump the empty air between them while more tears begin to escape, “Tell me what you want.”

“You, fuck, please. Want you to break me, fuck me, _anything_ , please,” Frank manages to rasp out hips leaving the ground but just barely short of reconnecting with Gerard's.

“ _Anything_ Frankie?” Gerard is pulling Frank up by the collar now, somehow rearranging them so that Frank is straddling him, holding him still so he can't grind down, “Want me to slice up that pretty art of yours? Beat you unconscious and then wake you up by fucking you within an inch of your life? Is that what you want Frankie?”

All Frank can do is nod dumbly as he tries to break Gerard's grip on his hips so he can once again give his aching dick some relief. But then one of Gerard's hands is gone and laced through his hair, yanking his head back sharply and causing him to whine.

“Use your words now Frankie”

“Yes, god, please, whatever you want.”

Gerard grins, sharp and feral, and releases Frank's hair “Good boy.”

And fuck if Frank doesn't almost lose it right there, his head dropping to rest on Gerard's shoulder moaning and crying as he continues to struggle against his grip in a futile pursuit of friction. He doesn't get to stay there long though because moments later Gerard shoves him back down into the leaf litter, pining him and rucking his blood stained t-shirt up to his armpits. Frank bucks his hips again as Gerard leans back, tracing the flat of his knife down Frank's chest while he studies him.

“So pretty,” Gerard says, tracing one of the doves gently before going over it again, before pressing in harder so as to draw blood, “It's almost a shame. I thought you were going to be my fallen angel, but this is nice too, this way I get to keep you.”

Frank whines, finally free to grind against Gerard again, as the other man continues to cut along the lines of his tattoos. Then suddenly the knife is gone and the whole of Gerard's weight in on him, pinning him once again to the ground.

Gerard lowers his mouth to Frank's neck, kissing open mouthed over the scorpion for a moment, before sinking his teeth in hard, cutting two deep crescents through the ink. He then returns to kissing, licking the blood from Frank's neck while Frank squirms and moans beneath him. Then after a minute he pulls back slightly, face so close to Frank's their noses are almost touching.

“And I do intend to keep you Frankie,” He says, the of menthol and iron washing across Frank's face with his words, “Those were the rules after all, the winner gets the loser.”

“Yhea?” Frank moans, unable to even attempt rational thought anymore, too caught up in the idea of being owned by this beautiful man. Gerard was everything thing he never knew he was looking for and a far away voice cursed him once again for praying for a stoner when he first saw Gerard's van approaching. 

“Yhea,” Gerard says, that manic smile back as he leans down even closer until hes barely a breath away, “Forever. Until that violent end.”

Frank comes. Hard. Jerking under Gerard as the other man laughs.

When he comes to his senses Gerard has sat back up on his haunches and is studying Frank with a mocking pout. 

“Now Frankie, that was naughty,” Gerard's pout quickly turns into a smirk as he leans down and grabs Frank's hair, pulling sharply, “It’s my turn, and you're going to be a good boy or I might have to punish you in a different way, and I don't think you'd like it very much.”

For the first time that night Frank has the sense to be afraid, can't not be with Gerard looking serious for once, the dark gleam in Gerard's eyes much more threatening now that it isn't accompanied by that manic grin or some playful quirk of his mouth. Frank nods jerkily and is relieved when Gerard's face once again stretches into a grin.

Gerard releases Frank's hair and flips him over, then grabs him roughly by the hips and hauls his ass into the air before shoving his jeans unceremoniously down to rest where his thighs meet his ass. There's a sharp pain across his back as Gerard makes a deep cut, echoed by his fingers tracing down it, gathering the blood and then with no warning Gerard shoves two fingers into his ass.

It fucking hurts but everything tonight has hurt and as such Frank can't really bring himself to care. Especially not when Gerard finds his prostate and rubs against it cruelly, causing Frank to whine and buck his hips, making a pleased sound that Frank can just barely hear over the sound of his own moans and the blood rushing through his ears. Soon there's another finger and Gerard starts to fuck him mercilessly with his hand, twisting and rubbing and slamming into his prostate constantly, and Frank can't even breathe its feels so good.

He's rock hard again despite having come barely ten minutes before and he pushes back against Gerard’s hand, eliciting a dark chuckle from the other man.

“Such a whore Frankie,” Gerard says, pressing his fingers fully to Frank's prostate again and rubbing hard, and Frank arches his back and pushes back more, “So greedy. Was the first one not enough for you?”

Then Gerard pulls his fingers free and Frank whines again, bucking his hips. He tries to ask Gerard to put them back, fill him with something anything, but all that comes out is incomprehensible gibberish and Gerard laughs at him. Frank wants to complain but suddenly there's a blunt pressure on his hole and he moans instead, pushing back on Gerard and trying to take him in.

“You need to learn some patience Frankie,” Gerard says mockingly as he teases the head of his cock around the edge of Frank's hole, “Your mine now, you take what I give you. I think you need to ask nicely. Beg me for it like the little whore you are,” Frank whines and Gerard slaps his ass roughly before grabbing him by the hair and pulling him up so his back is pressed to Gerard's chest, “I told you to beg Frankie.”

“Please, fuck, please Gee,” Frank pants, “Please put it in me, fuck me, oh fuck.”

“And if I do? You gonna be a good whore for me Frankie?”

“Yes, god, please,” Frank moans, “Be so good for you, please Gee.”

Gerard hums and mouths at the still bleeding wound on Frank's neck before releasing his hair, causing Frank to fall face first into the leaf litter moaning. Frank could feel it as Gerard once again collected blood from the cut on his back, and then there was the blunt pressure again, this time though Gerard pushed in all the way.

And fuck, then Gerard pulled out nearly all the way before slamming back in, fucking Frank at a brutal pace. He could vaguely hear Gerard talking, calling him more names and chattering away about all the things he could do to Frank now that he was his, but he couldn't bring himself to care over the feeling of finally, _finally_ , having Gerard fucking him. 

Then Gerard grabbed his hair and pulled him up against him once again and Frank came as Gerard bit down on his shoulder, drawing blood. Gerard was still fucking him when his orgasm subsided, sucking on the wound and slamming into him erratically. Frank tried to squirm away weakly but Gerard just tightened his grip and lifted his head to bite his ear gently. For a second it seemed like he was going to say something but then there was a sharp gasp and he stilled, releasing his load into Frank.

They stayed like that for a long moment before Frank started to squirm against Gerard's hold again, at which point Gerard eased himself out of Frank and lowered him to the ground gently. Frank groaned and lay there for a second before Gerard laughed gently and lifted Frank up lightly by the hips and pulled his jeans back up over his ass. Frank snorted and rolled over, holding his arms out so that Gerard could undo the handcuffs before propping himself up on his elbows.

“Now what?” He asked with a raised eyebrow and Gerard laughed again.

“Now we get back in the van,” Gerard said, leaning up over Frank and reaching for something to the right of his head, “And we go home,” He pulled back again to sit on his heels and handed Frank's knife to him, handle out, “That was the deal after all Frankie, remember? I get to keep you.”

Frank eyed Gerard's bright smile warily for a second before reaching up and taking his knife with a nod. Then, sitting up, he reached down to secure it once again into its holster as Gerard smiled and buttoned up his jeans. Once they were both done Frank pulled his shirt back down and Gerard stood up, reaching a hand out to Frank who took it and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. They stared at each other for a moment before Gerard’s eyes went a little wide and he made a startled sound, pulling his hand free from Frank's and kneeling down and rifling through the leaf litter to retrieve his own knife.

After a moment he stood back up again, blushing slightly, and now it was Frank's turn to laugh. Gerard blushed harder for a moment before breaking into a fit of giggles himself.

Silently they both climbed back into the van where Gerard fumbled in his pocket for the keys for a minute before finally retrieving them and placing them in the ignition and starting it up. Frank shivered a little when the AC started blowing in his face and then leaned back into the seat, wincing a little as his shirt rubbed against the cuts now covering his body.

“I think there's some wet wipes in the glove compartment,” He smiled apologetically, breaking the silence.

“I fucking hope so after you sliced me up like a piece of fucking meat,” Frank snorted as he dug through the glove box to determine that there was indeed a half empty packet of wet wipes buried beneath half a dozen packs of cigarettes.

“Now don't be like that Frankie, we both know you liked it,” Gerard say, grinning that manic smile at Frank for just a second before returning his eyes to the road, “Can you toss me a pack of smokes while you're in there?”

Frank blushes slightly and throws a pack to Gerard who proceeds to rip it open with his teeth, spitting the top down into the footwell, and carefully extracting a single cigarette in the same manner before tossing it onto the dashboard with the now empty pack from earlier and grabbing his zippo to light it. Giggling, Frank pulls off his shirt and begins to clean his wounds.

“There's probably a less bloody t-shirt in the back somewhere if you wanna dig around, might not be clean but ya know,” Gerard says, eyes never leaving the road.

Frank laughs and finishes cleaning up before climbing over the center console to dig through the mess lining the back of the van. Eventually he comes up with a tread-bare black tee with the bat signal on it. He gives a cautionary sniff and is pleased to find that, while smelling strongly of menthol smoke and paint, it doesn't reek of BO or anything. He tugs it on and climbs back over the console to his seat, elbowing Gerard in the head as he goes.

“Fuck, Frankie,” Gerard says trying to pout before giggling, “Keep your fucking limbs to yourself.”

Frank snorts and retrieves his jacket from the footwell, shaking it to knock free any of the dirt he probably tracked all over it, and pulls it on. He pulls his smokes from the breast pocket and leans over to steal Gerard's lighter from the dash. As Frank is pulling back Gerard catches him by the collar and presses a quick kiss to the cut on his jaw, licking over it, and then just as quickly releases him and returns his eyes to the road. Frank snorts again.

“What's with the bloodsucking fetish? You're gonna get sick if you keep acting like a vampire Gee,” Frank says, lighting his cigarette and throwing Gerard a pointed look, before tossing the lighter back onto the dash and settling into his seat. All he gets in response is a disgruntled huff, “So where is home anyways? I know you mentioned heading up through Maine earlier.”

“Belleville actually, never left, was just planning to turn around in Maine and keep looking on the way back if I hadn't come across you,” Gerard said with a shrug before flicking his smoke out the window and rolling it up, “Other side of town though. Got a shitty little two bedroom with my brother, wait fuck.”

Gerard slowed to a stop on the shoulder and pulled out his phone, tapping away and before Frank could ask what was up he was pulling back onto the road.

“So,” Frank hesitated, unsure, just because he didn't particularly need to find someone else right now didn't mean Gerard was satisfied, “Are we still looking? Now that I fucked up your plans and all I mean?”

Gerard chuckled.

“Nah Frankie, I think I'll be good, but maybe next weekend we can go out together.”

“I think I can handle that.”

Gerard smiled at him and Frank flicked his own cigarette butt out the window, wondering just how far this ride would take him.

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel already in progress but I have no ETA for it at the moment so follow the the series for updates on that if you're so inclined. This is the first piece in a trilogy, Frank and Gerard first, then MIkey, and then closing out the universe with Ray. Mikey's is already nearly 2/3's of the way done and I have Rays in the outlining stage so even if it takes a while I swear to the fucking patron saint of emo losers that i'll finish this goddamn thing eventually.
> 
> I did have a few people read this before it went up but none of them were really going through it with the intent of picking apart my grammar so if you find an issue please leave a comment so I can fix it, it'll be much appreciated.
> 
> Also having spent enough time on tumblr I feel obliged to use this opportunity to tell any antis or those who subscribe to anti thought-crime rehtoric to back the fuck off becuase I don't care and no amount of harassment will make me care thank you.


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